by Sarah Wynde
It didn’t matter.
He hadn’t killed Nadira or Misam.
He hadn’t killed Joe, either. But while he’d felt guilty about Joe — hell, yeah, plenty of guilt — it had never been the kind that was unbearable to look at, unbearable to even let his thoughts brush against. It was just normal old-fashioned survivor guilt.
The doctor was talking to him, Noah realized. He tried to pay attention, but the ghosts were all talking, too.
“I suppose this is it, then,” Nadira said.
“I guess so, yeah.” Joe sounded troubled. “No reason to stick around. Although—”
“Not so fast,” Noah interrupted him. “I need to talk to you.”
“You need liquids,” Natalya corrected him. “And plenty of them. I can hook you up to an IV or you can start drinking, your choice, but decide now because it’s time I started paying attention to the pregnant lady in the room. I don’t like how fast her contractions are coming.”
“Got it.” Noah tried to push himself to his feet. The hallway spun around him and nausea surged.
“Careful.” Grace grabbed his elbow.
“Got it,” Noah repeated. His eyes met hers. She was a mess, but the green of her eyes was deeper than ever and held the same magnetic pull that they’d always had for him. He paused for a breath, wishing he knew how to share all the thoughts and emotions spinning around inside his head with her, but it was impossible. It felt like he’d dropped a boulder he’d been holding onto — and hiding behind — and everything left inside him was a jumbled, incoherent mess.
“You okay?” she asked him and he knew she wasn’t only asking if he could stand on his own.
“Yeah.” He let his gaze drop to her mouth. It would be totally weird if he kissed her now, but he wanted to with a bone-deep desire that was so much more than simple attraction. He wanted her the way his body wanted air to breathe, the way his soul craved joy. The way he wanted life itself.
“Liquids,” Natalya ordered. “Lots of them. Grace, take care of it.”
The moment broke.
Grace looked away from him and nodded at her sister, then took charge with her usual efficiency. Within minutes, Noah found himself alone in a restroom, holding a pile of neatly folded clothes that belonged to one of her brothers and a sports drink.
Or almost alone.
“Joe?” he said as he set everything down on the counter by the sink.
“One and the same,” Joe replied.
“Anyone else?” Noah asked, turning the water on. The blood drying on his skin itched, so he didn’t wait for the water to warm up, just stuck his hands and arms under the cool stream.
“Just me,” Joe said. It sounded like he was standing at the sink next to Noah. If Noah closed his eyes, let the words be his only reality, he could imagine the two of them back in Basic, quietly rolling their eyes over the latest blasts from their drill sergeant.
But he didn’t close his eyes. The water was running red, then pink down the drain. He watched it flow, then lifted his eyes and stared at his own reflection in the mirror. His scars didn’t show, never had. But he’d always known that they were there.
Were they gone? He didn’t think so. It wasn’t that easy.
But he turned his arm up and eyed the half-healed cut that ran almost its length.
Maybe all his scars were now as faded as that one.
“Pretty damn cool.” Joe laughed. The sound held nothing but delight. But his voice sobered when he added, “I’m glad. Really glad. It’s not your time.”
“It shouldn’t have been your time either. I’m sorry.” Noah took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I let you get killed.”
“I was the driver. I should have seen that damn IED.”
“Crew’s supposed to be watching. Eyes open, remember? I was...” Noah scooped up some cold water and splashed it on his face, wanting the chill, the shock. He took another breath, and admitted the painful truth. “I was so fucking bored.”
“Dude. It was fucking boring out there.”
Miles of sand. Miles and miles and miles of interminable dirt and desert and more dirt. It could be beautiful. The sunsets, in the wide expanse, with the haze of dust and shimmer of heat in the air, could steal your breath away. But the hours lasted like days, the days like weeks, except for the brief moments when time suddenly skewed, compressing and spiraling out of control. Joe’s blood spurting through his hands had been the fastest forever imaginable. No time and an eternity.
He shook his head again, but this time not to shove the memories away. Instead, he let them come, let them wash over him. Joe’s eyes, the emotion, grabbing for the steering wheel. He hadn’t been thinking, only reacting.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Joe said.
Noah wasn’t sure that was true. But he wasn’t sure it was false, either. Maybe it didn’t matter. One way or another, it was over. It was time to let it go.
“And what I did to you...”
“What did you do to me?” Noah turned off the water.
“I left you behind. Made you do it all alone.”
Noah snorted, starting to strip off his bloody clothes. “You never left me at all.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that, too.”
Noah pulled his t-shirt over his head and dropped it in the sink. “If you’re gonna apologize, apologize for the right stuff. Remember that nurse in Germany?”
Joe laughed. “She was hot.”
Noah shook his head. It had been early days, soon after his injury. He hadn’t gotten used to ignoring the chatter and a stream of irate Arabic had brought an abrupt end to an otherwise friendly second date. He turned the water back on and let it run over the clothes in the sink.
“Grace is, too. You should go for it, man.”
Noah didn’t answer. He grabbed a handful of paper towels to clean up the rest of the blood.
“I’m serious. The two of you look good together.”
Looks weren’t everything. But Noah didn’t want to disagree with Joe. The kaleidoscope was still spinning and he didn’t know what the world was going to look like when all the pieces finally fell into place. Grace — even covered in blood and tears — was still a millionaire CEO. And he… well, he didn’t know who he was.
“I guess I won’t be here to see it, though,” Joe said.
“You can stick around if you want.” The words came unexpectedly easily.
“Nah, it’s time.” Joe didn’t sound happy about it.
“You sure?” Noah paused, half in, half out of the sweatpants Grace had found for him.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
He still didn’t sound sure, but Noah finished dressing before he asked, tentatively, “Anything you want me to do for you first?”
“I know this might not be fun, but you could visit my mom, maybe. You don’t have to tell her about the whole ghost thing, but maybe... I don’t know. Bring her some ice cream. Butter pecan.”
“I can do that.”
“And go see your mom, too.”
Noah hesitated for a moment, but he turned his arm up and eyed the line along it again. It was still healing, much faster than it should, the scab now fully formed into his elbow.
Joe was right. Noah didn’t know what he’d tell his family, if anything, but he was lucky to be alive.
He needed to do better at being alive.
“I will.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Noah?” Grace’s voice. “You okay in there?”
“Almost done,” Noah called back.
“Good. Will you take me to see my parents?” Sophia said at his elbow.
“Sophia! You do not belong in there,” Nadira hissed, but her voice also came from too close, as if she’d joined them inside the room instead of staying in the hallway.
“Hey. Bathroom. Privacy, remember?” Joe objected.
“He’s dressed.”
“
I’m not looking.”
Noah couldn’t tell which scornful reply came from which female voice, but he bit back his smile and answered Sophia’s question. “Not right this second. But yeah, I will.”
He’d take a road trip. Joe’s mom, Sophia’s parents, his own family. Maybe by the time he got there, he’d know what to say to them. How to find his place there, the common ground that had escaped him for so long.
“Thank you.”
“Good. Then…” Nadira started before pausing.
“Then it is time for us to go!” The kid sounded jubilant. “Are you ready, Joe? Are you ready?”
“I guess so.” Joe didn’t sound ready. He sounded grim.
Noah frowned. What was Joe thinking? Why was he worried?
“We asked Rose whether different doorways might lead to different places,” Nadira said briskly. “She does not think so, but she can not say with confidence.”
“I was wondering that, too,” Joe said. “You hoping for Islamic paradise?”
“Well…”
“I hope it’s a nice place,” Joe said. “I hope it’s everything you deserve. You should go someplace great, you really should.”
“Pfft.” Nadira’s scornful noise was more of a gentle dismissal.
There was a momentary silence. Noah wished he could see the ghosts. What were they doing?
“You deserve someplace nice, too,” Nadira finally said. “I’m sorry for all the unkind things I’ve said over the years. I know it was never your fault.”
Joe’s laugh sounded choked. “No worries. It’s been… well, yeah.” He hesitated, before adding, “I’ll miss you.”
“If it happens that way,” Nadira said. “It might not. All our doors might lead to the same place.”
“Or they might not,” Joe said.
Another pause. Noah turned the water off and started squeezing the excess out of his mostly-rinsed clothes.
“Are you guys just going to keep staring at each other?” Sophia finally spoke.
“No, of course not.” Nadira returned to her previous briskness. “It is time to go. But—”
“Mama and me are both going through my door,” Misam interrupted her. “Do you want to come with us, Joe?”
“Through your door?” Joe sounded surprised.
“I will not risk losing Misam,” Nadira replied as if that was obvious, before adding, “If you wished to come with us…”
“Really?” Joe asked.
“You might not want to,” she said quickly. “I understand if you don’t want to chance losing your, what is it, streets of gold? They sound very… pretty.”
“They sound cold,” Joe said. Noah could hear the grin in his voice. “And shiny.”
“Our paradise has much delicious food in it,” Nadira said and Noah could hear that she was smiling, too.
“Also, someday, probably, your, uh, husband,” Joe said.
“And his houris,” Nadira’s tone was acerbic. “That shall not concern us. But if you do not wish to join us—”
“No, I do,” Joe interrupted her. “Very much. I… I would miss you.”
“And I, you,” Nadira said.
Noah pressed his lips together to hide his smile.
“Okay, you guys should stop staring at each other now,” Sophia said.
“Let’s go, Mama, Joe. It is time! Goodbye, Sophia. Don’t cry too much. Goodbye, Noah!”
“Allah bless you, Sophia. And you, too, Noah.”
The words felt unexpectedly warm to Noah, as if Nadira truly meant the blessings she offered. He swallowed around a lump in his throat.
“Goodbye, man. Take care,” Joe said.
“Goodbye,” Noah said, his voice husky. “And good luck. To all of you.”
“Goodbye,” Sophia said. “Don’t take any wooden nickels.”
“Why would we do that?” Misam asked. “What’s a wooden nickel?”
“I don’t know, it’s just something my grandpa used to say. If you see him…”
“We will tell him hello! We will tell him you are on your way and coming soon! You are coming soon, right?” Misam’s voice was moving as if he was bouncing around the room, from one person to another.
“I hope so. If Noah will take me to my parents.”
“I will,” Noah promised again. “And I’ll even talk to them for you.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Misam ordered.
“We won’t,” Noah replied. “We’ll go right away.”
“Good, good,” Misam said. “Are we all set?”
“Everyone ready?” Nadira asked.
“Should we say goodbye to Dillon and Rose?” Joe said.
“They’re with Akira in the prison room. I am not going back there.” Nadira’s voice was firm.
“They know we are going,” Misam said. “Dillon said to say goodbye, Rose said something about time being a construct. I think it was a quote from a television show, but I don’t know which one.”
“All right, then.” Joe sounded resolute. “Noah…”
“Butter pecan,” Noah replied. “I’ll take care of it.”
He wasn’t going to cry. Not because of the humiliation factor — real men could cry, Noah knew, and technically he was alone in a bathroom, so what better time? But there was too much relief and honest joy in his emotions for the loss to hurt.
His voices, his ghosts, were going to be fine.
And so was he.
“Mama, you hold my hand, and Joe, you can hold my other hand,” Misam ordered. “And I will lead the way into my doorway.”
“Do you think I’ll get houris in this afterlife?” Joe asked.
“Ha.” Nadira snorted. “You will have to live without.”
“But Misam will get them, right? Maybe he’ll share,” Joe said, words teasing.
“There will be no sharing of houris,” Nadira said. “Take Misam’s hand before we leave you behind.”
“But—” Joe started.
“But nothing,” Misam said. “No arguing!”
Noah smiled at the exasperation in his voice, and he was still smiling when the room fell silent.
37
Grace
Henry was a girl.
She was also healthy, breathing well, and a good size for such a premature baby, but Zane was having trouble processing the surprise.
“But he’s a girl,” he said, for possibly the fifth or sixth time. He’d met them at the hospital, where Akira had delivered a first baby in record time. By early evening, the baby had been born, examined, measured, tested, pronounced beautiful, and half a dozen visitors had already come and gone.
“I know,” Akira said, gazing in wonder at the bundle in the crook of her arm, just as Henry opened her mouth and yawned, tiny baby tongue lapping at her lips. “Oh, my gosh, she has the most perfect tongue. Look at how tiny it is.”
“Are we gonna name her Henrietta?” Zane asked.
Akira made a face. “No, of course not. That’s a terrible name.”
“But…”
“We have time, we can think about it.”
“How did we not know that she was a girl?” Zane asked. “You had an ultrasound. Two of them.”
On the other side of the bed, Natalya smirked.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Grace said to her sister.
Natalya widened her eyes but didn’t respond.
Sometimes she could be so infuriating.
And other times… Grace couldn’t help remembering the relief she’d felt at Natalya’s arrival a few hours earlier. She’d been so sure Noah was dying, so sure that he wasn’t going to make it. His survival was a miracle. Nat’s miracle. Or maybe Kenzi’s.
Or maybe the universe had listened to her own desperate litany. She hadn’t been praying out loud, but she’d been making promises. And she’d felt something happen. Not something external, no warm light or beneficent glow, but a knot loosening inside her, a ball of anger and grief and agonizing pain releasing and floating away.
She didn�
��t exactly forgive Dillon for dying. He’d been an idiot. But the thought didn’t bring the usual pain. People made mistakes. Dillon’s had been huge, but it wasn’t like he could turn back time and reverse it.
And she’d made mistakes of her own. She’d just been luckier than him. Much luckier.
“Helen’s a nice name,” Akira said, giving a yawn of her own. “A little like Henry, a little like Eleanor. Sort of your mom’s name, but not.”
“Helen,” Zane repeated after her, tracing a finger down the line of the baby’s cheek. “I like it. Gentle, peaceful.”
Natalya pressed her lips together, holding back her smile.
Grace narrowed her eyes at her, wondering about her sister’s amusement.
Natalya patted Akira’s arm and said, “We should let you guys get some rest. Congratulations again. And welcome to the world, baby Helen. You’re going to like it here.”
Akira and Zane tore their attention away from the baby long enough to make their good-byes, but they were already busy admiring her again as Natalya and Grace made their way to the door.
Noah was waiting for Grace at her car, leaning against the hood, his head bent over his phone. Grace’s steps slowed when she saw him, then sped up again. She hadn’t expected him, but she felt her heart lifting, a smile breaking out on her face as she came close.
“How long have you been waiting? You could have come inside.” She didn’t wait for him to answer, before adding, “The baby’s fine, so is Akira. Four pounds six ounces so the littlest thing you’ve ever seen in your life, but healthy enough that she’s staying with Akira in her room instead of the NICU. Probably for a few days, though, until she gets a little bigger.”
“She?” Noah straightened, sliding his phone into his pocket.
Grace’s smile widened. “A girl, yeah. That was a surprise. I think they’re going to name her Helen.”
“Nice name,” Noah said.
Silence fell between them.
It wasn’t awkward, but Noah’s eyes were on her, steady, intent, dark with an expression she couldn’t read.
Grace bit her inner lip. Her body felt like it was humming with the heat of her attraction, vibrating with the warmth of wanting him. What would happen if she stepped closer, pressed herself against him, lifted her mouth for his kiss?
